


I Can See It In The Stars

by marigoldmonster



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marigoldmonster/pseuds/marigoldmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrelated drabbles using Tumblr user wildfairy's horoscope post as prompts.</p><p>1: Aries —<br/>ripping off the band-aid, waking through a forest, being center stage, police sirens, fingernails tapping against a desk, boiling water, a sunflower field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aries

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of the Tumblr post 'the signs as feelings'.

Aries

 _ripping off the band-aid_  
-He was falling. It was a familiar feeling - the burn of lead scouring through his flesh and blood trailing down his skin. 'Familiar and not' Tsuna mused, 'I've never been shot in the heart before.' he heard his body's impact on the ground, sounding unreal and distant, as if this wasn't happening. But it was; he had fallen just as quickly as he had so many times before. Only this time, it seemed slower; this time, he had no regrets.

 _walking through a forest_  
-He could do better. He _had_ to do better. Fighting was only okay if you won. You lose; you're a troubled child. You win, well, you're still troubled, but at least you have the drive necessary to succeed in life. You'd go places. And Ryohei definitely wanted to go places - go anywhere but safe and quiet Namimori. He forced his legs to pump faster, lactic acid burning at his muscles and a wild grin on his face. The edge of the wooded trail was just ahead, and he was positive his time had improved by at least half a minute. He'd only get faster and stronger from here; after all, Ryohei was going places in his future. Who cared if it was thanks to a little organized crime? 

_being center stage_  
-Up to the batter's box, clanking the metal bat in his hands against the heel of his cleats, grinding the fake leather of his gloves against the grip. Lifting his elbows and dropping his weight onto his back leg. The pitcher shakes his head once, and Takeshi purses his lips and tenses his lower half while twisting his torso towards the ump. Finally a nod, the wind up, a hitched breath, a swing. The ball soars up up up and Takeshi doesn't see it anymore, running and running until he's not. He barely hears his own shaky exhale over the cheers and the blood rushing in his head. He thinks he hears the call "Safe!" and he feels sharp pain littered all over his back and hands taking off his helmet and rubbing his hair until it hurts, but it's a good hurt. A friendly hurt. He slumps to his place on the bench and grins, curling his hand unconsciously to hold the hilt of a blade soaked in blood. but this was neither the time nor place for the mafia game; this field is a stage, and he's the lead here.

 _police sirens_  
\- Hayato had grown up hearing the night life of Sicily as a lullaby. No one wanted to hire a kid, no matter how talented he was. Too young to work, but old enough to be taken advantage of - ten years old and Hayato was already tainted in more ways than one. He didn't even get money to encourage him to pretend that it was okay, not like the girls who walked in too high heels and looked like they'd bleed glitter if you cut them did. No money, no bed, no family. At least the cats in the alley still treated him the same way they had before.

 _fingernails tapping against a desk_  
-tick tock tick tock; Lambo moved his eyes back and forth like maman's favorite clock - that one with the cat that I-pin hated - and tried to keep his leg still. Time slowed down; he closed his eyes and he grit his teeth, pressing his tongue against the small gap between his canine and first bicuspid. He could hear someone behind him tapping the cheap particle wood of the school desk and almost snarled. The drumming of dull nails against the steady meter of the clock hands made for bad music, and Lambo could feel the eyes of the teacher baring into his skull. Another student joined in with a counter-beat to the clock, the sound of a plastic pencil clanging against hollow steel. He felt like the unwilling audience to a children's orchestra - there only because he was obligated. The minute the clock struck half past noon, he was up out of his seat and into the hallway before the school bell even chimed. Only three more movements to go until curtain call.

 _boiling water_  
-Control and order were the two values most important to the Hibari household. Strength was a close third, but if you have a firm grasp of the first two, you shouldn't have a true need for it. Or so Kyoya's father had said. With his back perfectly straightened and his legs folded properly beneath him, Kyoya sat quietly as the table where he had taken his etiquette lessons as a child and wondered if his father still felt the same way. The cushion across from him was empty for the first time ever in Kyoya's memory, and he removed the teapot from the portable gas stove. His grandmother would throw a fit if she saw him using it, but she wouldn't see, so he didn't worry. She was laying down in the backroom; she had exhausted herself at the service earlier, and Kyoya was alone. The handle was burning hot, even with the pot holder wrapped around it, and he absentmindedly poured the water into his cup. Using an heirloom tetsubin to make instant coffee, Kyoya smirked; his father would have killed him. Good thing Kyoya had gotten him first.

 _a sunflower field_  
-If she closed her eyes, she could hear the flowers sing. She swayed and hummed but didn't sing back. No matter how much she wished it, she was no flower; she was more a weed than anything -just didn't know how to die. Cold hands on her skin made her shiver and hum louder. Trails of ice and bitter hatred slid across her shoulders and for a moment Chrome thought of the sun and how much it would hurt those hands. But only at first and never for long. Mukuro was a flower who had planted its roots under the snow, and her boss was trying so hard to dig him up and give him hope. She thought she felt the hands warm, but she knew it was a lie. This was a dream, and Mukuro was never warm. The flowers pitch shot up from the steady warmth of spring to the harsh chill of winter and Chrome smiled. She was a weed; she would survive and come back, and she would never leave Mukuro alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are not chosen based off of any astrological/horoscope-y reason. I read through the post, chose a group of people, and just went for it. This one is obviously of Tsuna and his guardians. The next one will be of just Tsuna, and I can guarantee that it most definitely will not be as long as the first chapter. This one just ran away screaming, and I don't actually understand anything of what I just wrote (Except for the fact that I accidentally made Chrome crazy. Whoops.


	2. Taurus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2: Taurus —  
> chocolate melting, the ticking sound of a clock, blanket forts, sliding across a wooden floor in your socks, using sticks as swords, sunsets from the hood of a car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember me saying this one wasn't going to be as long as the last chapter? I lied. This one is actually a few hundred words longer.

Taurus — 

_chocolate melting_ –  
-His mom had given them to him to help him make friends, but as Tsuna walked into the classroom, he didn't think they would work. He tugged at the hem of his shirt and nervously looked around to make sure the teacher was in the room. She was standing behind her desk, and when Tsuna made eye contact she smiled and gestured towards the chaos further in the room in with what was supposed to be an encouraging manner. Tsuna gulped and headed uncertainly towards the other children, deciding to try the boys crowded around the toy chest first. The closer he got, the more his stomach hurt, and Tsuna quickly backtracked. He tightened his grip on the bag in his hand, and headed towards the reading corner instead. 

Tsuna didn't like reading - he wasn't very good at it and it made his head hurt - but at least there were less people there. Just two other kids, another boy and a girl, and they were quiet, each flipping through their own books. Tsuna sat down in one of the plastic blue chairs arranged in a semicircle after picking a book that looked like it would contain as little reading as possible. The other boy was eventually called away to play by the same group Tsuna had tried to approach before, leaving Tsuna alone with the girl. Tsuna looked uncertainly at her from the corner of his eyes; he didn't want to be friends with a girl, but at the same time, he really wanted to have a friend.

He looked at the bag held tightly in his fist and at the neatly wrapped chocolates his mom had prepared for him and took a deep breath. He was going to do it.

"Um, my mom gave me som-" the girl cut him off.

"Can't you see I'm reading?" Her voice was sharp and she glared at him as he stuttered out an apology. Tsuna pulled his slightly extended arm close to his stomach and wrapped both hands around the bag as tightly as he could. The girl huffed in annoyance before going back to her book. Tsuna sat there in silence, too intimidated to try to get up and leave and have the girl snap at him for distracting her again.

When the teacher eventually called for order and ushered the children to take seats, Tsuna uncurled his hands and sighed. The chocolate had all melted under his grip. He threw away the bag and morosely sat in his seat. Looked like he wouldn't have any friends this year either.

 _the ticking sound of a clock_  
-Time was running out. His eyes were burning and he couldn't breath; his lungs were collapsing, they had to be. There was no other possible explanation. His hands were shaking, and he wanted to do nothing but curl up and cry. He had prepared for this! He'd spent hours with Reborn practicing for this moment over and over again, so why couldn't he seem to actually do anything when it mattered? He chanced another glance at the clock and winced. He was too late. It was over. Everything was over. He was going to die.  


“Time! Put your pencils down and close your test booklets,” the teacher called. Tsuna sighed in anguish and dropped his head onto the desk. In the end, he hadn't been able to answer a single question. Reborn was going to kill him.

 _blanket forts_  
-Tsuna stared blankly at his room. They were gone. All of them were gone. His bed was stripped bare, his linen drawer was empty - whoever did this had even taken his curtains. He'd blame Reborn, except Reborn had left with Bianchi to go on a date or whatever this morning, and they had said that they wouldn't be back until late.  
Unless...Tsuna tensed and glanced around suspiciously; unless the date was a cover up for their plans to mess with him. Except it was already dusk, and the strange lack of blankets and sheets was the first thing to happen to him all day. (He still didn't understand how this had happened; he'd only been in the restroom for two minutes.)  
There was a crash and laughter down stairs along with the sound of I-pin yelling. Tsuna almost smacked himself in the head; he should have known. He made his way down stairs and sure enough, there was everything that was missing from his room and then some all carefully placed to make the biggest blanket fort Tsuna had ever seen.  


"Is that Mom's wedding dress?" Tsuna squawked, wide eyed at the sight of his mother's treasured dress placed carelessly as a canopy. The laughter stopped and Tsuna took an uneasy step back at the glinting eyes of Lambo and I-pin. He glanced nervously at Fuuta who only smiled at him apologetically before all three pounced. Tsuna went down in a flurry of shrieks, flailing, and a little blood and ended up with three children using his back as a cushion in their fort. When he bemoaned his situation and how the fort was going to be a pain to clean, Lambo whacked him on the forehead and imperiously retorted, "It's not a fort, Stupid Tsuna; it's a castle."

 _sliding across a wooden floor in your socks_  
-'Clumsy, clumsy,' Tsuna thought bitterly to himself, 'why on Earth are you so clumsy, Dame-Tsuna?' Another day, another injury, this was now Tsuna's life, but this time he couldn't even use the excuse of the mafia trying to dispose of him. Oh, no, this was all him. He picked at the orange cast on his arm and sulked,  


"It didn't look dangerous when they did it in the commercial."  


_using sticks as swords_  
-Tsuna winced as he pressed the disinfectant over the cut on his face. During the fight, he didn't actually feel it - he normally didn't feel much of anything besides cool detachment and occasional rage while using his Hyper Dying Will - but now, as he tried to bandage himself up as much as he could on his own, every single scrape, bruise, and cut were hurting. He honestly felt like his whole body was one gaping wound, and he idly wished his life had never leveled up from play fighting to death matches.

 _sunsets from the hood of a car._  
-Against his better judgment, Tsuna had gotten into the car. The idea of Dino doing anything without his men was terrifying, but Tsuna just couldn't say no to him when he made that face. It wasn't fair; if Tsuna tried to pout like that, Reborn would probably shoot him. (Wishful thinking on his part; there's no probably about it - Reborn would shoot him, consequences be damned.)  


So here he was, in a bright red convertible with Dino driving and none of his men around to make sure they don't crash, burn, and die. Tsuna sighed and took solstice in the fact that he was self aware when it came to his less than stellar decision making skills.  


'and they want me to lead their powerful crime syndicate.' he thought, a little hysteric. At least it looked like there were people who made worse decisions in life than he did.  


The car pulled to a stop a few yards away from the edge of a cliff, and he followed the elder's lead in getting out. Tsuna wouldn't lie; when he saw them heading towards the drop off, he considered doing a tuck and roll to relative safety out of the still moving car. Dino had had to coax him to sit on the hood of the car with him -it had looked far too expensive for that until Tsuna remembered Dino was a crazy rich foreigner.  


"So, are you excited to go to Italy?" Dino asked as he fidgeted with Enzo. Tsuna eyed the turtle apprehensively and replied, "Depends on which part of the trip you're talking about." Dino chuckled.  


"I meant the part where you get formally initiated into the Vongola," he clarified. Tsuna glared, "There's not going to be any initiations! And I'm not going to be a mafia boss!" Dino didn't looked surprised by his outburst.  


"I don't think you really mean that anymore, Tsuna," he replied lightly. Tsuna huffed, annoyed that Dino was right. He was going to Italy, and no matter how vehemently he refused it, he would probably become Vongola X (or Neo Primo, as Reborn called it now. Tsuna didn't really get it; they mean the same damn thing).  


"Oh, look; the sun's setting" Dino remarked offhandedly. Sure enough, from their position on the cliff they could watch the sun sink below the horizon where as it was normally not visible in Namimori thanks to all the trees. Tsuna watched with rising trepidation as rays of yellow changed colors and spread across the sky before finally disappearing completely.  


'Why do I feel as though that's supposed to be a metaphor for something?' Tsuna thought, even more annoyed than before.

 

(Tsuna doesn't have any time for your symbolic bullshit)


	3. Gemini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemini —  
> the scent that follows after you blow out a candle, how handwriting is like a voice, your first visit to a haunted house, a rigid spine, the sound of crunching leaves, church bells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this with the relationship being purely platonic, but you can easily read it as 6996 if you prefer that.

**_the scent that follows after you blow out a candle_ **

_Mukuro and remembering his past lives_

-It doesn't happen often, but some days Mukuro wakes up not knowing who he is. The moments are brief, none of them ever lasting longer than a few minutes, but those first startling moments of being awake always leave him with the constant itch of not belonging in his own flesh. Some days are worse than others. Some days he's a little more moody than usual. Other days he has to restrain himself from clawing at his skin and avoid every reflective surface lest he smash another mirror. It all depends on who he thought he was and what moment he was reliving in those few minutes before he truly wakes up. 

**_how handwriting is like a voice_ **

_Chrome's not used to being alone in her mind, but she can still hear Mukuro's voice even when he's not there_

-The words were harsh and biting, but Chrome found comfort in them all the same. She had never seen Mukuro's handwriting until she first read the letter, but even then she hadn't been paying attention to it as she was to the sound of her own heart breaking with every word. Now though, Chrome could appreciate the steady spikes and swooping loops of his script that was so much like the boy she adored.

**_your first visit to a haunted house_ **

-Mukuro can honestly say that he had never felt inclined to visit a haunted house before. He considered his time spent with the Estraneo and the Vendici to have been enough experience in that sort of matter and left it at that. However, when he had told his dear Chrome as much, she had had that sad look on her face as she apologized and never brought the topic up again. Of course, Mukuro simply couldn't allow his favorite vassal to walk around looking like a kicked puppy (they already had Ken for that when he and Chikusa fought) so he had relented to her wishes.

Kokuyo Land's haunted house was more tacky than truly terrifying, even with his mist flames making it look as if it had never fallen into disrepair, but Chrome was such a sweet girl that she jumped and squeaked at every appropriate moment along their three minute journey, anyway. Mukuro couldn't find it in himself to resist when she asked if they could go again with a wide, breathless grin, so he smiled right back and allowed her to take his arm in her own as they their way back through over and over.

**_a rigid spine_ **

-Chrome had honestly never thought on the possibility of her seeing her mother ever again after she had joined the mafia, and she was seriously wishing that she had agreed with Ken or Chikusa coming to the corner store with her instead of “wearing her big girl panties” as M.M. put it. She hunched into herself and stared really hard at the varieties of gum in front of her in hopes that the woman wouldn't recognize her, but Chrome was never that lucky.

“Nagi?” a familiar voice lilted from far too close behind her. “Is that you? What on Earth have you done to your hair?”

Chrome winced and tried to walk away, but a well manicured hand grabbed at her shoulder and tried to yank her around. The scent of alcohol was mixed into the same sharp scent her mother always wore, and Chrome tried not to gag when her stomach clenched painfully at the smell.

“Look at me when I am talking to you, Nagi!” she demanded. Chrome jerked away from the hold, grabbed a handful of snacks off the shelf, and ran out of the store, ignoring the shouts of the woman and the cashier echoing after her.

Chrome showed up back at the hideout nearly an hour later than she said she would with red rimmed eyes and only gum to show for her trip. Ken and M.M. scolded her harshly, but she ignored them as she slumped in the far corner, trying desperately not to cry again.

**_the sound of crunching leaves_**

-They don't meet very often in person; in fact, Chrome could probably count how many times they'd seen each other in their own bodies on one hand despite them having known each other for nearly seven years now. As the years go on, their meetings in the worlds of their own making have dwindled as well. 

Chrome was sad to say that this would probably be the last of their meetings for a long while. Mukuro had grown after his release from the Vendicare – they all had, Chrome supposed, but it was most apparent in him. He sat precariously perched in a dead tree with his legs dangling carelessly above her head. They hadn't said anything to one another, but Chrome doubted that they needed to. They both knew what was happening out there in reality, and they both knew that Mukuro didn't agree to what she had done. 

The heavy weight of the ring on her right hand was a constant reminder of her betrayal to the boy who had saved her life, but Chrome was loyal to a different man, now. A man whose ideals she could follow without her guilt drowning her alive. Chrome dug her fingers into the cold ground and listened to the brown leaves break beneath her hold. She thinks that she'll miss him, but knows that this is what's best for both of them. 

**_church bells_ **

_Mukuro doesn't believe in god, but he takes his Chrome to midnight mass on Christmas anyway_

-Chrome stared in awe at the large gathering of people in the church, the volume at a quiet murmur despite the crowd. The church was illuminated by the small, lit candles lining the front of a display of a baby and it's mother. Chrome tried not to stare at the statues for too long, feeling as though someone would snap at her for being in the cathedral on such an important day. 

“Pretty, isn't it?” 

Chrome jumps a bit but nods an affirmative, throwing a bright grin to Mukuro as she huddles closer to him when an influx of people push pass them to get to the pews.  
“I've never been in a church before,” she admitted softly, trying not to say it too loud lest someone over hear. Murkuro smirks at her and leans over like he's telling a secret. 

“I have, but only once,” he whispers. “Though I wasn't doing anything Baby Jesus over there would have approved of." 


End file.
